


Sure I would Kiss You

by HecoHansen31



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Bullying, F/F, Genderswap, Girls Kissing, Internalized Homophobia, Loss of Virginity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2020-04-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:34:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23702407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HecoHansen31/pseuds/HecoHansen31
Summary: When your roommate Ivar comes home desperate one night, all your feelings are brought up.The only problem: you are both girls.
Relationships: Fem! Ivar (Vikings)/ Reader, Ivar (Vikings)/Reader
Kudos: 16





	Sure I would Kiss You

You heard the door closing after your meek roommate.

She tried her best not to be loud, but you had been feeling too shitty to properly sleep, hence you had sat yourself on the sofa with an art documentary, as you tried to shift your mind from the harsh day you had had.

You hadn’t been able to fall asleep, although the late hour, still.

Ivar, still, tiptoed in the kitchen, mindful of your ‘sleep’, opening the fridge searching the bottle of wine you kept stashed there, in order for it to be fresh and ready for when you chose to drink it, but she found nothing, since you had finished it before she could get her hands on.

And from the fact that she didn’t search for beer but straight up went for the strongest alcohol, you knew it had been a hard day also for her.

You peaked your head to look at whether she had started raiding in the alcohol cabinet yet and caught her face drenched with tears.

And, catching your gaze, she almost stumbled in her own feet for the scare, making the vodka bottle almost fall to the ground, catching it at last, as you moved yourself to rush in, worried for the expensive alcohol, a ‘gift’ you had stolen from Olga’s party.

That Russian beauty certainly knew a thing or two about alcohol.

“Fucking fuck!” she screamed loudly as she backed to ease out of her body the scare, balancing herself on her crutch as you took in her appearance, finding her clad in the typical punk rock fashion she wore whenever she had to visit her sisters’ parties.

Leather pants that gave her an ass you’d have gladly paid to own (all thank to the squat she’d do right in front of your breakfast, having woken up early just to exercise, something which she had convinced you to try once, just to tell you to stop and return to bed, since you were too distracting) and a ripped shirt that would showcase her black studded bra.

It was all matched with a ‘barely-there’ make-up, since she didn’t need much.

Her blue eyes would attract with pure animal magnetism any boy she wanted, and it’d work, till they took a good look at her legs.

Or at least that’s what Ivar always said,

What you knew was that she had never taken a boy back, to your dorm.

Although there was quite the crowd behind her for that.

And this had made you question some things, that you hadn’t dared asking aloud, not only because your roommate was extremely dangerous when angered (which usually happened when you probed the beast), but also because…

…you honestly couldn’t blame her for not wanting a quick fuck with a frat boy.

“… do you want to do shots?” you asked, as you thought that the headache you had in your head wouldn’t get any better, and you wouldn’t be having lesson on Saturday, although maybe… you should have woken up early… to study, the following day.

But after the horrible day you had been having, you honestly very much thought about dropping out of college and starting your own museum at home, as you tried to become famous through the universal tool of YouTube.

“I want to drink in peace” mumbled Ivar, a clear sign that you weren’t invited to the ‘pity party’.

“Ok, roomie” you replied, not daring to ask more because you already knew that probing wouldn’t make Ivar talk, you’d just have to let her handle her own problems, realize she couldn’t and then come to you.

It never failed and neither this time she denied a small visit to your room, as you set everything to go to bed, having changed in your pajama, a small pair of booty short in satin, and a mismatched oversize t-shirt you had been wearing since you had started college.

She looked at you blushing always at unease with you in any undressed state, although she had lived with four sisters.

‘It is different!’ she had once protested ‘… they are family!’.

And as you pretended not to hear it, you had heard clearly ‘… and you are prettier’.

And you couldn’t deny your own attraction to Ivar.

Still it was something for which you had thought it wasn’t worthy ruining the slowly budding friendship that was growing between you two, but the more you knew about Ivar and how she had overcame years of bullying and physical therapy, the more you found yourself to liking her more than a friend.

Hence that was why it mattered to you so much to see her sad.

You slowly lead her to bed, completely taking advantage of the small touch of her hands against yours, as she sat down, with her back against the wall, in order for her to sit up straight, as she stammered, about ‘you having stolen all the glass for the shots’.

“They are actually mine, little thief” you teased her, and she blushed even more, making you almost want to softly push your fingers in her cheeks, probing them till you made her laugh, but you thought that as she looked, so grim and tired, it’d just make her run away.

You waited for a shot to be in your body, before you tried to spur her on talking about that night.

“I shouldn’t have gone” she mumbled with decision, and you didn’t dare to ask more, looking at her as she lightly made the vodka turn in the shot glass “… but Hvitta told me that she’d have some of the good stuff, and Ubrie told me that he’d… he wouldn’t be there”.

And you immediately understood who she meant.

Marco, Ubrie and Hvitta’s shared boyfriend, the exact definition of frat boy, a fucker who had tried to ask Ivar and you if you wanted to have a threesome, since they seemed his specialty.

You had just denied him annoyed, but you had seen the interest in Ivar’s eyes, mostly her willingness to lose the virginity she took with herself everywhere she went.

She had confessed to you once after a few too many drinks, how awful it felt for her to still be a virgin, mostly due to her lack of security in herself, set by her disability, which had made her always feel beneath others.

‘Who would like to fuck somebody who isn’t even able to walk properly’ she had asked you, before proceeding to puke onto your booties.

Well you’d have fucked her for a start.

“… maybe they didn’t know” the parties the Lothbrock visited were the chaotic ones where nobody knew who the others truly were.

“Siggy knew” she spoke, as if the taste of her sister’s name left a bad taste “… she fucking invited him, over”.

Oh, that was bad.

You knew it all about the sisterly hatred between the two since Ivar at least one time a day would talk it all with about the way Siggy teased her, with simply existing.

“That is fucked up” you mumbled, as you took in another shot, starting to definitely feel lightly dizzy, mostly because the two glasses of wine weren’t exactly out of your system, and you knew what alcohol made you do.

“…I know” mumbled Ivar, gently moving her long and luxurious blackish mane, off her front and behind her shoulders, as a few strands lightly tickled your face in the movement “… but the worst part was that… he… he fucking…”.

She was so angry that her hands started trembling and one of yours immediately moved to grab them softly, as you took the shot of vodka out of of them, setting it onto your bedside table, to avoid spilling some of it on your sheets, not wanting to clean them tomorrow, from the atrocious smell of alcohol.

“I’ll kick that idiot in the groin tomorrow” you mumbled softly as you adjusted yourself to gently make your roommate shift closer to your chest, as she snuggled clumsily, more than glad to hide her face.

“You barely arrive at his crotch with your head” she replied, sassily, as you circled her back with your arms, gently caressing it.

“I am planning revenge for you and you insult me!” you huffed out, making her finally giggle, although you could feel your t-shit getting dirty with a mix of tears and ‘barely there’ mascara.

“Gosh, you shouldn’t honestly be allowed to even think of anything violent” replied Ivar, as she moved away from you swiftly to take a good look at your body “… this body isn’t made for violence”.

“I am a lover not a fighter” you smirked, making her blush, as she laughed off the embarrassment “… but if you want to talk about Marco, and draw a few dicks and an horrible moustache on his photos I am here”.

She nodded, but the mention of Marco’s name had brought her to slowly drift away from you and you could feel it, grabbing her attention as you pinched her wrist to bring her back to earth, gaining a slightly angered look, as she fell with her back against your ruined mattress.

“I just wish I was normal” she let out, almost as low as a breath, but you still caught it, and mimicked her falling to her side.

“Nobody wants to be normal” you replied “… we all want to be the cute and cool girl who doesn’t follow society and all that bullshit”.

“You know what I mean” and you didn’t even have to look at her to know that she was looking at her legs.

It had happened once, on your first year together, you had barged in her without her pants, because you had been worried of having left the hair straightener on in the bathroom, just to catch a barely panty-clad Ivar who had closed the door in your face.

She hadn’t talked to you for an entire week.

And although you hadn’t seen much, it certainly wasn’t as bad as Ivar made it seem.

It wasn’t certainly perfect but people also had legs with stretch marks and evident scars, and that didn’t certainly make them the horrifying monsters Ivar thought she was, even more when you saw the desperate strength she put in doing everything.

You honestly could just linger in bed all day, whereas she would have exercised her ass, gotten a degree and found the solution to world hunger, in a few days.

She was certainly much better than many people you knew.

Certainly better than you.

“… I think that you are the only one who thinks you aren’t normal” you let out, as she turned to you surprised, you hadn’t tried any sarcastic remark, before her eyes found again the roof of your small bedroom.

“Marco thinks that I am a freak” she mumbled, as if it costed her truly everything to say what she had to say.

“Why?” you were seriously going to kick in the groins that asshole.

Ivar’s cheeks became flushed, and she still refused to look at you in the eyes, but she slowly started talking.

“Do you remember that party at Kelly’s house?” you nodded, remembering it being extremely boring, mostly because Ivar had ditched you and you knew nobody there, you had spent it trying to figure out whether Kelly was the blonde girl or the brunette one.

Turns out she was the red-haired one.

“… well, when I disappeared, I was with Marco” and you sent her an extremely surprised look “… I wanted to get over with the entire virginity thing, and we did it”.

Oh, that was… traumatizing.

And your small lovesick heart.

You kept yourself in a minute of silence, as she moved to your side, finally delivering a small look at you.

“… are you judging me?”.

Because she had chosen to lose her virginity to a frat boy? No, she would never.

But it still hurt, although you had long since accepted the fact that Ivar Lothbrock didn’t swing that way.

You were such a loser.

“… no”.

“Good, because I did judge myself” she spoke, as she made you immediately to turn to her “… because it fucking sucked, it just hurt and I couldn’t, I told him to stop…”.

“Did he?” because if he hadn’t heard ‘no’, you would have also fractured his awful face.

“Yeah yeah, he did, but…” she seemed honestly ashamed of continuing and you lightly turned, although you kept your hands linked, to give her some privacy “… but he told me that I was fucking strange and tonight, he… he made fun of me, for not having been able to… you know… he said that I have something wrong inside”.

You were seriously going to smash his head.

“Ivar, it hurts the first time… most of the time, you have nothing wrong, and if you didn’t feel comfortable…” you explained to her softly.

“Yeah, but I am used to pain… I live with it, each day… but this one…” a look of uneasiness showed on her face “… what if I have something? I googled some stuff…”.

“You googled some stuff” you replied tightly, hissing through your teeth “Ivar, you are smarter”.

“No no, there is this sickness… it is very…”.

You stopped her, moving on top of her, physically overpowering her, to make her listen to you, aware that she’d just continue talking shit about herself, and you honestly couldn’t take it anymore…

… no matter the fact that you lost any ability to talk as you saw her under you, long black hair contrasting against your orange comforter, as she stared into you with those intense blue eyes.

“… did you feel comfortable with Marco?” you asked softly, as you tried to move your head away from the thought of kissing those plump lips.

“… why does it matter?”.

“It does”.

“You are still a virgin” she protested, as if because of that you had no right to talk.

“Well, I am a virgin who is smarter than you” you retorted as you blocked her from trying to escape your grasp “… if you didn’t feel comfortable, it is obvious that you didn’t feel well”.

“… yeah yeah, but it was…”.

“Has he prepped you?” you asked softly, as you leaned down “… used his fingers or tongue? Because you might not have been wet enough”.

Ivar seemed to think about it for a minute, before shyness crept over her face, and you thought that you had gone too far, which you did, slowly dismounting and pushing yourself back against the mattress.

“… he didn’t do neither of those things”.

“Well he should have” you mumbled “… I might not have done the entire deed, but … I have fooled around.

“And did it feel good with the guy you tried?” she asked, honest curiousness in her face.

“It wasn’t a guy…” Gosh, the vodka and wine had made your tongue loose and you didn’t have to turn to know that Ivar has all his attention focused on you “… I… swing both ways, ok?”.

“O… ok” mumbled Ivar beside you, and you thought this couldn’t get worse, so ushered to close the discourse.

“He was a twat and there isn’t anything wrong with you, Ivar…” you reassured her tightly “…you just need to find the right one”.

“As if anybody would like to fuck me” she uttered turning on her side and you weren’t able to stop yourself from uttering.

“I’d fuck you” it just slipped your mouth, before you could take it back, and everything in you froze.

Fucking God was this alcohol or the Veritaserum?

You just hoped you had whispered it low enough that Ivar hadn’t heard it.

But she did.

And she turned to you, with a questioning gaze.

“… are you serious?”.

“I have drunk too much” you tried to use it as an excuse, as the warmth of her body came closer to you.

Your body was too tired to fight your messy words.

“You haven’t” she spoke lowly, as she kept her eyes trained on you “… I have seen you drink much more”.

“Can we just forget my words?” you tried to protest but it didn’t work in the slightest, since Ivar was the one who pushed you to turn around to her and look at her in the eyes.

“Then I am just a fucking unfuckable cripple, also to you” she was teasing you, pushing you to react properly, telling her what you truly thought of her.

But you had enough to hear her diminish herself.

And alcohol had already ruined your relationship, it couldn’t get worse.

“I’d like to fuck you very much, but I know that you don’t swing that way”.

You knew it because although Ivar had been private about her sexuality and such, she had always been quite traditionalist, hence you had just backed off, assuming she was straighter than straight.

“Did it feel good with a girl?” she inquired as it didn’t seem to faze her in the slightest.

“Fuck off” you told her, but she dug her fingers in your ribs “… Ivar I seriously don’t want to fucking joke on this”.

“I am not” she mumbled, as she gently brought you closer and before you knew it, her hands were laced with yours, as she pushed you closer.

Taking in her disheveled and natural look, and you had enough.

You kissed her, desperately.

Nothing too aggressive, no, it was a bare kiss, on her soft and plump lips, finding them not only tasting of alcohol but also as full as you had thought they would be and it was them that pushed against yours, intensifying the kiss, as she pushed her hands in your hair, almost retracting them when she found long hair and not short ones.

Female, not male.

And you were worried.

You thought she had finally realized what she was doing.

But then she just pushed them tighter in your hair, pulling them to get you to open her mouth under her, and you couldn’t help but moan lightly, surprised by her aggressiveness, but just went along with it, as your hands tried out her uneasiness, slowly inching down her back, as you gently grazed her tight and muscly back.

And she just leaned closer to you, detaching her mouth from yours, to breath softly, but she soon attacked you again with an eagerness, that made you laugh and push her lightly back.

“Do you kiss guys like that?” you asked jokingly, as you felt her hands also exploring your body, boldly moving under your shirt.

“Yeah, why?” she retorted, again that aggressive insecurity that made you just smirk softly, as you lightly dragged her face closer, and this time it was you who led the kiss, and at first you teased softly her lips, a kiss for each lip, and then your tongue licked them, before it dipped between them, and entered her warm mouth, gently and softly licking the plate of her mouth, before it stirred awake Ivar’s tongue, who chased it.

But you abandoned her mouth, immediately, retreating yourself.

And Ivar moved forward chasing more, but you just stood straight and held yourself off, mouth lightly opened in an invitation you were offering to your roommate.

“… this is how you kiss” you mumbled softly, as you offered her a hand “… and I can teach you much more, if you are curious”.

And Ivar grasped tight your hand, rushing you towards her, with an impatience that almost made you more ditzy than the alcohol you had drunk.

“...please, I don’t think I need any teaching”.


End file.
